


Comme des Garcons

by Homicidal Whispers (HomicidalWhispers)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Exchange Student!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomicidalWhispers/pseuds/Homicidal%20Whispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a lot Armin loves about Germany. He loves the culture, the language, the architecture and, most notably, his host family's son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comme des Garcons

**Author's Note:**

> i always feel weird about writing au eremin or eremin in which they didn't grow up together. i think a lot of the appeal for me stems from their obvious co-dependence that was born from the desperate situation they live in.
> 
> i think if eren had lived a stable life, without the titans and with his family, he would definitely be more mellow. and yet, he'd still have extreme emotions: extreme happiness, extreme anger. idk i tried my best to portray that
> 
> the reason mikasa's with them is left purposefully ambiguous, but do notice that her personality is really similar to canon and make of that what you will

The plane ride had been unbearable. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable, and it was hardly the longest trip he’d ever taken. Compared to the time he’d flown all the way to the states, the flight from England to Germany was nothing. It was the excitement that did him in. The anticipation made the scant hours turn into endless days, made him unable to sit still and be distracted by the view from his window seat or by any of the many books he’d brought along to amuse himself.

He was near the front and, apart from the bookbag he’d tucked under the seat, there was nothing for him to retrieve. As a result, he was one of the first off of the plane. He waved farewell to the flight attendants and stepped out. The first breath of un-recycled air was a relief. He made his way through the airport to baggage claim. His suitcases came swiftly down the carousel and with a stranger’s help, he got them quickly.

He hesitated as he rolled his bags toward the exit. Were they already here? Would he even recognize them? He’d received a picture of the host parents he’d be staying with, but he wasn’t convinced that that would be enough to find them. He fingered the phone in his pocket. He’d received their numbers too – maybe he should call?

Armin needn’t have worried. The instant he stepped out of the airport, he saw a group of three holding a huge sign with his name on it. Looking closer, he could see that the two adults looked like pictures of Carla and Grisha Yeager he’d gotten. The third one was a boy, probably around his age.

The boy noticed him before his parents did. Armin saw him point and then bound forward. “Hi,” the boy said, as excited as Armin felt. He smiled with his whole face, his mouth stretching up, his eyes crinkling. They were an astonishing shade of green – was that color common here? “You’re Armin Arlert, right? I’m Eren.”

Armin laughed – he couldn’t help it. His last name sounded ridiculous in that string of German, the pronunciation so disastrous that it was only recognizable because it was preceded by his first.

“Nice to meet you,” Armin managed, taking the hand Eren had shoved in his face. “I’m very glad to be here.”

Without asking, Eren took hold of one of Armin’s suitcases and began wheeling it towards his family. “We couldn’t wait for you to get here,” he said. “We got here nearly an hour early, and then we had to keep driving in circles around the terminal because the police officers wouldn’t let us stay.”

Armin wasn’t entirely sure how to reply, partly because he was blown away by Eren’s enthusiasm, partly because he was still trying to parse through that flood of German. Armin was not bad at the language, not by any means. His prowess at the language was what landed him the chance to come on this exchange program. That didn’t mean that he was used to hearing it spoken so conversationally, so _fast_.

“Sorry I took so long,” he ventured.

Eren gave him an incredulous look. “Why would that be your fault? You weren’t driving the plane,” he said. They arrived at his parents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Carla said. She forwent a handshake, leaning down to hug him gently. She was tall and willowy. Her face was tired and her hair was tossed to the side in an unassuming ponytail, and she was entirely gorgeous. Next to her, Grisha seemed stiff and plain. He smiled and shook Armin’s hand, but he offered no words.

“Now then,” Carla said. “We’re ready to go. It’s not long of a drive, fortunately.”

Armin nodded. “I’ll put my stuff in the trunk.”

“No need,” she said, gesturing. Armin turned in time to catch Eren heave the second suitcase into the drunk. The first was already tucked neatly inside. He made it look effortless, although Armin had had to pay extra because the bag was over the weight limit. He set it down with barely a thump. Eren caught his eye and grinned.

They loaded into the car. Armin set his bag on the floor and winded the window down. The fall air was crisper here. It smelled clean, not bogged down with humidity. Armin turned his face towards the wind, smiling as it breezed through his hair.

He started when Eren slid closer to him. He pointed out of the window, showing him landmarks. Not all were famous, either – he pronounced one shop they flew by to be his favorite café and another to be his favorite avenue to bike down.

As Carla had said, they arrived quickly. Eren once again unloaded Armin’s suitcases, waving off all offers of assistance. He led Armin into the house.

It was flat, but on the inside it was much larger than it had appeared from outside. Eren called out the names of rooms as they passed by – living room, kitchen, spare bathroom, two bedrooms, the master – before finally opening the door to one. “This is you,” Eren announced. “We got it to be dad’s study, but he never used it much so now it’s kind of free space.”

Armin stepped in, taking a slow look around. It was a comfortable size, just a bit smaller than his room at home. The walls were painted mint green and there was a window facing the setting sun. There was an inflatable mattress, already fitted with bedding and pillows. There was a set of drawers and a closet.

“There’s hangers in there,” Eren said, jerking his head towards it. “We tried to think of everything. We want you to feel at home.”

“Thank you,” Armin said, and he meant it. “I like it.”

Eren rubbed the back of his head, glancing down at the floor. “Good,” he said. “I’ll – I guess I’ll let you settle in. Come grab me if you need anything, my room’s the one to your left.”

Armin nodded and watched him withdraw. Then he settled on the floor, legs crossed, and rubbed his eyes. He remembered to send his grandfather a text to let him know that everything was good, feeling guilty that he hadn’t done so earlier. He would call in the morning, he promised himself.

He set his shoes neatly by the set of drawers and started the process of unpacking. He’d packed efficiently, so it didn’t take too long. Still, by the time he was done he felt exhausted. He barely summoned the energy to change before falling into bed.

* * *

Probably because he’d fallen asleep so early the day before, Armin woke up much earlier than usual the next morning. He was a serial over-sleeper usually, so he had no idea what to do with so much time to spare on his hands.

The first thing he did was go to the shower. Someone had been in his room while he was sleeping and helpfully left out a towel and a washrag. Grateful, he grabbed them both and headed for the bathroom he’d been shown. He was glad for it. In truth, he’d only _actually_ been travelling for a few hours. More time had been spent in the airport than in the actual plane. But there was something about airports that left you feeling lethargic and unclean.

After the shower, he wandered the house a bit. He’d had nothing more than a cursory look yesterday and besides, it was different without the anxiety of knowing someone was watching you. In the kitchen, he found a set of keys left for him on the counter along with a note explaining what each key was for.

With the keys safely in hand, Armin left the house. He wouldn’t go far, just explore the area around the house and the block. One of the keys unlocked a door leading to the backyard. He thought he saw someone back there, a glimpse of a long bit of red fabric, but he blinked and the image was gone. He must have imagined it.

There wasn’t much back there. It had been rudimentarily enclosed so that it looked more like a garden house than a backyard. He saw a plot of dirt that looked like it might have been a garden once upon a time, but it was sad and unmaintained now. Apart from that, it was set up like a tiny gym, with a set of dumbbells, a bar for pull-ups, a mat rolled up and set aside. He figured that Eren came out here.

He wandered the neighborhood for a time but apart from the early morning joggers, there wasn’t much to see this early in the morning.

When he went back inside, he heard movement from some of the bedrooms. There was still no one out and about yet. By the time Eren joined him in the kitchen, he was well into breakfast.

“Are you cooking?” Eren asked, poking his head over Armin’s shoulder to per down into the pot.

Eren sounded so bewildered that Armin worried that he’d committed some terrible faux-pas. He looked down into the pot uncertainly. “Yes?” he said. “Is that okay?”

“It’s great,” Eren answered hastily. “More than great. Mom usually cooks on school days, but she likes to sleep in on the weekends so we kind of fend for ourselves.”

“”I’ll set some aside for when she gets up, then.”

“Would you put dad’s aside too? He’s always really busy, so he forgets to eat a lot.”

Armin nodded. So it would just be the two of them, then?

He turns back to the fridge, grabbing the carton of eggs. He’d make them scrambled, not because it was what he personally preferred, but because nearly everyone would eat them that way. “No one has any allergies, right?” he asked.

“Mom’s allergic to nuts, but it doesn’t look like that’s a problem,” he answered.

“No,” Armin agreed. He cast a sharp eye over what he’d already made just to make sure, but there was nothing that looks like it would be a problem. He caught sight of a red stretch of fabric. Instantly reminded of what he’d seen earlier, he went over to it. It was a scarf, he saw as he approached, coiled into spirals in a chair around the kitchen island. It was much longer than usual, and it almost looked handmade.

“Is this yours?” Armin asked curiously.

“Nah,” he answered. “Why? Do you like it?”

“It’s soft,” Armin said. He touched the fabric gently. It was worn, but despite its obvious age it was clean and kept for.

“I’ll make you one, then,” Eren said and nodded decisively.

“You made this?”

“A few years ago,” he confirmed. “I like it. I always get in trouble because I have too much energy, so mom taught me to help me wind down.”

Armin smiled. “I’d love one.”

After he finished with the eggs, all that was left was to take the bread from the toaster and arrange it on plates for the two of them. It was silent while they ate, but conversation wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t at all uncomfortable. Armin liked that about Eren. He liked his confidence, how he always seemed at ease and sure. It made relaxing in this unfamiliar place easier.

With Eren there to help him, he could almost feel at home.

After they finished, Eren helped him carry their dishes to the sink. As they washed up, Eren complimented the meal and, when Armin prompted him, explained the differences between what they’d had and a typical German breakfast.

“If you want to relax for a while, that’s fine,” Eren said as he dried his hands. “Or I can show you around the neighborhood a bit.”

Armin chose to go with him. As they left the kitchen to go get dressed to leave, he heard the front door slam shut. A few moments later, he saw a girl come into the room. She wore exercise gear, and she was sweating like she’d come from a run. She grabbed a towel and used it to blot the sweat, then went for some water.

“Mikasa,” Eren greeted. “Armin made breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

Mikasa shifted to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” she said. Her words were quiet, but her voice was powerful. She made a striking figure; even sweaty, face unnaturally flushed from her workout, nosing about the counter for food, she was eye-catching. There was something about her that he instinctively respected, admired, and it made him nervous.

She chose the seat with the scarf on it. She wrapped it carefully over the chair’s back before sitting.

“I didn’t know there was another exchange student staying here,” Armin remarked after they’d left. They were on bike, because Eren had assured him that everyone biked here. He was on one of Eren’s old ones; he was short enough that it suited him perfectly. “I assumed it was one kid per house.”

Eren frowned. Armin thought that maybe he just hadn’t heard him – they were riding fairly close, but the wind was still pretty loud. “Do you mean Mikasa?” he asked before Armin could repeat himself. Armin nodded.

Eren laughed. “She’s not an exchange student,” he choked out between his snickers. The bike wobbled dangerously.

“She’s not?”

“She’s my sister. She lives with us.”

Armin was mortified. “I – I just assumed,” he stuttered. “I shouldn’t have assumed, that was stupid.”

“She was adopted,” Eren explained.

“I just hadn’t seen her before,” he tried to explain, although Eren didn’t seem offended about it. “She didn’t come to the airport or anything and –“

“And she looks nothing like the rest of us,” Eren finished. “I get it. It was an honest mistake, no harm done.”

“She’ll hate me,” Armin lamented.

“Nah,” he said. “She seems a bit scary at first, I know, but she’s just kind of quiet. She doesn’t really know how to talk to people. Give her time; if you just be yourself, she’ll love you.”

* * *

“You make it look so easy,” Eren complained, groaning at the table of classwork. “How are you so good at everything?”

Armin shrugs, scratching his face. “I’ve just done it before,” he said.

He was massively understating, of course. He attended a very small school, small enough that each kid’s needs were catered to individually. He’d been pushed forward in nearly all of his classes, because his teachers had felt he wasn’t being “challenged” enough. He’d finished his required courses a year earlier than usual, another reason why he’d been the prime candidate for the exchange program.

This school, on the other hand, was huge. He’d been stopped stupid the first time he’d seen the building and a month later, he still couldn’t help admiring it whenever they were entering. It was old, in a timeless classic sort of way. It was one of the most populated schools in the area. Even the library they were currently in was astounding; it was hard to keep his hands to himself when surrounded by this much knowledge and history.

“Doesn’t it make sense that’s he’s good with English?” Jean asked. He was another exchange student, from France. He and Eren had immediately butted heads – Armin still wasn’t sure what that first argument was about, even though he’d been forced to get between them to stop it.

Typically, Eren scowled at him. “But he’s good at _everything_ ,” he repeated.

Jean didn’t share many classes with Armin. Similar to how Armin shadowed Eren, Jean’s schedule had him following Marco. “Well, it’s only fair that he’d get English. It’s not easy being surrounded by a new language,” Jean said and then he paused, considering. “Although you _are_ pretty good at it.”

“He speaks like a natural,” Eren said, proud.

“I’m not that good,” Armin interjected, hoping to calm them both. “I take a long time to answer.” He was too formal; he knew that he sounded more like some old geezer than a teen. He was also horrible at German colloquialisms. The first time he’d heard the phrase “it’s all sausage to me” he’d been so taken aback that he’d visibly paused. Unable to figure it out, he’d even muttered it in English. Mikasa usually gently explained the idioms and slang while Eren snorted and was generally useless.

“Better than horse-face, here,” he said uncharitably.

“I was born in another country, asshole!” Armin and Marco each set an arm automatically on Jean’s arm, calming him as he made to stand. Armin had lost count of the amount of times they’d managed to goad each other into fights. This was a library, though. If they started a fight in here, they’d be in serious trouble.

Eren opened his mouth like he wanted to respond, and Mikasa turned to him. She was usually content to stay quiet at the table, but she was always ready to intervene if Eren started getting too troublesome. Of course, her method of subduing him was usually just as violent as whatever Eren was planning on doing.

Armin stood and starting packing his books. “I think we’d better go,” he said, smiling ruefully at the rest of the table. It wasn’t just Jean and Marco; he’d also met several others since coming to this new school. There was Connie and Sasha, Krista and Ymir, Bertl and Reiner and Annie. There were others as well; he’d managed to make more friends in a few weeks here than he’d made in years back home. It was nice.

“Don’t let this idiot run you off,” Jean called. Marco’s tugging on his elbow got stronger, but Jean ignored him.

“It’s _really_ time to go,” he said. “Later, everyone.”

Mikasa frog-marched Eren towards the door and Armin trailed sheepishly in their wake. Mikasa didn’t let Eren go until they were safely out of the building. They went to where they’d left the bikes.

Eren was still scowling. “I don’t know why we let that horse-face force us out,” he grumbled. Mikasa slapped the back of his head.

“You didn’t need to pick a fight like that,” Armin admonished him.

“He said you’re not smart!” he protested. “Like he’d know smart.  He wouldn’t know it if it hit him.”

“Lack of agreement doesn’t mean disagreement,” Armin reminded him. “And besides, it’s not that important.”

“You’re plenty important,” Eren said.

Eren had a way of doing that. He’d declare things that a normal person wouldn’t be able to say with a straight face. And he’s say it with such conviction, such certainty, that you couldn’t help but believe it, or at least believe that he believed it. Having another person believe in you was a powerful thing, Armin discovered.

Mikasa was looking at him. It wasn’t overt; nothing with Mikasa ever was. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, keeping her head straight.

Armin tilted his face towards her, silently inquiring. She shook her head. With one hand, she adjusted the scarf she wore to cover her mouth. It had taken Armin a while to realize this meant she was hiding a smile.

He let it go, manoeuvring his own scarf out from where it had gotten caught between the handlebars. His was grey where Mikasa’s was red. It was much shorter than Mikasa’s, and yet hers never seemed to get caught in as many things as Armin’s.

He looked to Eren ahead of him instead. Eren always ended up in the front when all three of them were together. At first he’d thought it was purposeful, a ploy to get Armin and Mikasa to open up to each other. By now, though, Armin knew that Eren wasn’t that subtle. He was just naturally brash, always looking straight ahead. He was able to stay in line if he was with just one other person. With any more than that, he ended up leading the pack.

Mikasa didn’t seem to mind. She never seemed particularly bothered by anything, in fact. Armin, for his part, was content to remain behind. He wasn’t the type to insist on anything else.

Besides, he thought, taking in the stretch of Eren’s pants over his ass as he bent over the bike. The view was quite nice from back here.

Carla had a snack ready for them when they got in, which they ate gratefully. Then the three of them gathered around the table, their homework pooled around them. Carla often teased that this was Armin’s good influence; before, Eren would always leave it to the last minute or finish it in school; Mikasa hadn’t been so lazy, but neither had she been this diligent about it.

Jokes or not, Eren did seem to be picking up some of Armin’s good habits. He asked for help a lot, and Carla had remarked that there had been a noticeable improvement. It wasn’t that Eren was stupid. He just needed more patience than a teacher in a class full of students could give him. Eren said that he got bored easily, but something about the way Armin explained things kept him interested.

When that was finished, they usually went their separate ways, Eren and Mikasa out back for their workout, Armin to find something that would occupy him until dinner. That day, however, as Eren headed off, Mikasa remained behind.

Armin looked on curiously as she played with the end of her scarf. It wasn’t a fidget exactly. It was more like a habit, something she did unconsciously when occupied. “You like him a lot, don’t you?” she asked, apropos of nothing.

Armin grabbed the cup of water he’d taken earlier and gulped it quickly. He regretted it immediately. Not only did it give him away, it also tasted strange. It wasn’t bad – just different from what he was used to. Still tasteless, and yet undeniably foreign to him.

“Sure I do,” he said, feigning casualness in an attempt to recover. “He’s great.”

She looked at him properly, expression flat. “Don’t play games.”

Armin had known that she was perceptive, if socially awkward. Still, he hadn’t thought he was being so transparent. Did _everyone_ know? Did Carla? Did _Eren_?

It wasn’t like he had wanted to fall for Eren. He hadn’t planned it, but he hadn’t been able to escape it. The physical attraction had been immediate and expected. Eren was undeniably attractive, with his shaggy hair that fell into his eyes far too often and his easy smile. He was muscular in a way few other seventeen year old boys were and he unwittingly flaunted it in a way that made Armin want to reach out and _take_.

It was everything else that Armin hadn’t anticipated. It was the way he had tried his hardest to help Armin fit in. It was the way that he would stand side by side with Armin at the sink and help him wash dishes after meals. It was the way that he listened when Armin got into his lengthy babbles about science and literature, intently listening even if he didn’t understand. It was the way he spent his evenings relaxing in Armin’s room in silence, the way that he invited Armin to do the same.

All the nights they’d spent lounging, the hours spent talking. It was in the frequent excursions Eren insisted that they take to expose Armin to the “real Germany.” Rarely were they away from each other, and yet neither had gotten bored of the other.

Of _course_ Armin had fallen for him.

“You don’t mind?” Armin asked, hesitating. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, even if he saw no reason to broadcast the information. Somehow, though, affection for Mikasa had crept upon him stealthily. Her opinion mattered to him.

“Why would I?” she asked, so dismissively that Armin knew she meant it. “He doesn’t care either.”

“But he doesn’t like boys,” Armin finished. Story of his life.

Mikasa remained silent for a long while and he sighed, taking that for a confirmation. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him go after anyone,” she admitted at last. “But if I had to guess, I’d say it doesn’t matter to him.”

Armin had nothing to say to that. Mikasa didn’t continue either.  That was what she did; speak in short bursts of information and then go back to silence as if she’d never said anything at all.

Eren wandered back in amidst the silence, but in typical Eren fashion, he didn’t notice the tension in the air. He was carrying a package in his hands.

“Here,” he said and thrust it towards Armin.

Armin took it. Eren waved him on impatiently as Armin opened it up. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but as he picked it up, It unfolded into what was obviously a sweater. It wasn’t perfect by any means – it was lumpy in some areas and more threadbare in others. One sleeve was noticeably longer than the other and the torso seemed a bit long. But it was a beautiful deepblue, and soft to the touch.

“I had to guess the size,” he said apologetically. “Try it on.”

Armin obliged, pulling it over his head. The neck was a bit tight, but he got his head through and then both arms It was long on him and the teeniest bit too wide. Both sleeves were too long as well; the longer sleeve completely covered his hand. But just as he’d thought, it was warm and absolutely comfortable.

He caught Eren’s eyes. “I love it,” he said seriously.

Eren stepped forward. He brushed Armin’s hair back into place where the sweater had mussed it with his gingers. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I can make it smaller.”

“It’s perfect,” he repeated.

Eren’s smile was tinged with nervousness. “There’s more,” he said. Armin returned to the package and withdrew a hat and a pair of gloves in the same color. He put it on without prompting. These fit better than the sweater.

“It was my first time making a sweater,” Eren explained sheepishly. “It’s a good color. I thought it would be nice with your eyes.” He met Armin’s eyes as he said it, and just as quickly looked away.

Armin grabbed Eren’s hand. Even through the gloves, he could feel the heat of Eren’s skin, the shape of his calluses and knuckles. “Thank you,” he said. The words were insufficient, but even in his own language Armin couldn’t find the words to express his gratitude. Instead, he tried to pour as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

“A promise is a promise, after all,” Eren muttered. His body angled away, face downturned. He looked uncommonly awkward. “I’m going to go out back. Mikasa, you coming?”

She nodded and stood, catching Armin’s eye as she left. _See?_ her glittering eyes seemed to say. _I told you_.

Armin had honestly forgotten about the promise, or more truthfully, he’d assumed Eren had. It hadn’t come up in conversation again after that first day. Eren had given no indication that he remembered it or that he’d been working it. This had taken him completely by surprise.

It was a very useful gift, too. It was cooler here than he was used to. The days were shortening rapidly shortening and the temperature dropping quickly. It wasn’t yet cold enough to start using the gloves, but the hat became useful very quickly. The sweater, on the other hand, Armin took to wearing inside the house. It was warm and cozy and oversized; he always felt his most comfortable when he wore it.

Eren always gave him the most inscrutable of looks whenever he wore the sweater. It was strange, but Armin liked it.

* * *

“Eren, do you know where –“ Armin started, and then he stuttered to a halt as he took in what he was seeing properly. Eren was naked.

The nudity by itself wasn’t that surprising. Eren wasn’t a self-conscious person by any means. Armin was used to seeing him roam about in minimal clothing on his way to the shower or coming from a workout. He’d even seen him naked once or twice.

This was completely different. “Uh,” he said intelligently. “I’ll just – sorry I didn’t knock, it wasn’t important.”

Feeling Eren’s eyes on him, he fled. He knew he was flustered and flushed, but he couldn’t get the heat to die down. Safely alone, he allowed himself to dwell on what he’d seen. Eren, crowded against the headboard of his bed. His legs splayed open, his hand on his dick, tugging rhythmically. The other hand near his hole, just barely pressing in with the pads of his fingers. His face had been open and relaxed, mouth open and panting.

The nudity wasn’t new, but the situation was so much more compromising. There was no room for doubt about what had been happening

Eren hadn’t even seemed to notice him at first, most likely because of the headphones set firmly over his head. But when his eyes had opened and he’d seen Armin standing there, he’d just…stopped. He hadn’t rushed to cover himself or make excuses. He hadn’t even told him to get out. He’d just sat there, looking at Armin blankly until Armin had the presence of mind to leave.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from looking. His dick hadn’t softened at all, Armin had noticed. He wondered if he’d kept going after Armin was gone. Was he in there right now, finishing himself off?

“Oh my god,” Armin whispered to himself, burying his face is his hands. He could practically feel himself overheating.

There was a knock on his door. “Armin?”

That was definitely Eren’s voice. Armin cleared his throat and called for him to come in. He hoped that he projected outward calm, even though he felt anything but. He crossed the room in a few easy steps, sitting next to Armin on the bed.

“It was an accident,” Armin said.

Eren chuckled. “I know,” he said.

“And it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he continued. He had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, but knowing that didn’t stop him from doing it. “It’s perfect normal for people our age. Everyone does it.”

“I know,” Eren said again. He angled his head, looking Armin full in the face. “You’re more embarrassed about this than I am.”

“I walked in on you,” Armin protested. He didn’t even know the word for it German. He’d never come across it in any of the books he’d read, and for whatever reason, none of his teachers had thought to include it in the curriculum.

“It happens,” Eren said, shrugging. “Like you said, everyone does it. It’s no big deal to me, so relax, alright?”

Even if Eren said that, it didn’t make it any easier to actually do. It didn’t make it any easier to forget Eren’s easy sexuality. The memory felt branded into him, seared and permanent.

“Relax,” Eren said again and Armin wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but Eren seemed closer now. Armin took a chance, creeping his hand closer to where Eren’s lay on the bed between them. Eren flipped his hand over and caught Armin’s, twisting their fingers together.

Armin’s rambling died down abruptly, the words in his mind going blank. It felt okay, though; this silence wasn’t one that needed to be filled.

* * *

When Eren came outside, Armin was already there. “Do you want me to leave?” Armin asked. He knew that if he was the one working out, he wouldn’t like others to be there watching him.

“No need,” Eren answered. Well, it wasn’t like he had any reason to be self-conscious. He strode over to the equipment and sat at the bench press.

“Mikasa isn’t coming?”

“She missed her morning run, so she went now.”

“Ah,” Armin said. “Need me to spot?”

“I’m good,” he said. “I won’t use as much weight, is all.”

“Alright,” Armin said dubiously. He watched as Eren loaded plates on either side of the bar. It looked heavy; Armin was pretty sure he wouldn’t even be able to budge it. Eren seemed to be able to handle it, though. He laid on his back and picked it up, lowering it to his chest and pushing it back up easily. Armin watched him do a few more repetitions to be sure before going back to his own work. It was a nice view, but he felt incredibly awkward watching.

Armin was working on the garden. It wasn’t a hobby he’d had before coming here, but he’d found himself with a lot more time than he knew how to fill.

Carla never really bothered with it. Eren told him the garden had been started as a pet project of hers, one that she had ended up dropping quickly. She started a lot of projects that way, Armin had noticed, most likely because Grisha always seemed to be busy at work. Since arriving, she’d undertaken a redecorating project, outfitting the bathroom, kitchen, and living room with new furniture and artwork.

Either way, she wasn’t fussed about Armin’s interest in the garden. She’d showed him all of the tools she had lying about and had gone out to buy anything more that Armin had mentioned needing. She seemed pleased with the results, too, and always encouraged him at it.

For Armin’s part, he was only minimally aware of gardening before now. His mother had had one, and his grandfather had tried his best to maintain if after she died. Armin knew a bit from helping and observing. He’d gotten some books to help him. Because it was sheltered from the weather, Armin was able to plant outside of the season.

He found that he actually quite liked it. He liked the earthy smell of it, the cool feel of dirt sliding between his fingers. He liked the excuse it gave him to spend time outside, liked the way he could be outside without being bothered by the chill of outdoors. He liked putting in the hard work and seeing a result blossom for him.

“Can I help?”

Armin jumped. He checked the time quickly, because he knew Eren usually spent about an hour. It hadn’t felt like anywhere near that long, but the watch confirmed it. He hadn’t noticed the time getting away from him.

Belatedly, he answered, “I’m not really doing anything. I’m kind of just sitting here.”

Eren smiled at him and sat too. He’d worked up a fine sheen of sweat, but he didn’t seem too tired or overworked. He had a habit of pushing himself too far – a habit borne of a desire to overcome his sister, Armin suspected – but it looked like he’d stuck to his word this time. Armin handed him the water bottle he’d brought with him. He knew Eren always forgot to bring water with him.

“I like what you’ve done out here,” Eren said, taking Armin’s hand. “It’s brighter. It’s nice.”

Armin was too distracted by the fit of Eren’s hand over his to answer. Eren had started doing this, more and more often, and Armin wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He was usually good at reading and reacting to situations. Eren was easy person to understand; he was simple. He didn’t both with subtleties or subversions. He said nothing more or less than exactly what he meant. He did exactly what he wanted to do. There was no way to read far into anything he did.

And still Armin found himself second-guessing.

* * *

When Jean asked to hang out, Armin was more taken aback than anything else. The proposal came out of nowhere. He and Jean didn’t talk much, not unless they were with the rest of their friends. Most of their interactions came about when Armin tried to stop him fighting with Eren.

He accepted, mostly he saw no reason not to.

It was pretty fun, in a disastrous sort of way. They went to see a movie. Jean wasn’t good enough at the language to understand the film. Armin fared better, but only slightly. They talked too fast. He missed references and jokes flew over his head. Whenever he tried to explain what was going on to Jean, he ended up missing out on the next few minutes and becoming lost himself.

It didn’t help that it was a movie with an _actual_ plot. If it had been an action movie, they would have at least been able to watch the explosions. Action movies were easy that way.

It turned out that Jean mostly wanted to talk at Mikasa. Armin wasn’t very helpful to him. He had no idea what she thought of him. He couldn’t offer advice because it was a mystery to him how they had even ended up friends.

It was nice, though. He loved spending time with Eren and Mikasa, but he’d spent all of his time with them since arriving in Germany. It was nice to hang out with someone else, someone else who would marvel at being in somewhere new; someone who didn’t mind playing the tourist. Jean was content to wander around the plazas with him and get lost in the culture.

Maybe they hadn’t been particularly close before, but Armin found a new appreciation for Jean.

He arrived back at the house to find Eren in a weird mood. He was quiet while they did their homework and disappeared to his room immediately after. Armin didn’t see him again until it was time for dinner. He slunk out of his room and took his customary seat next to Armin at the table, but he didn’t say anything.

It was the first time the silence between them felt uncomfortable.

Logic told him that Eren was upset about Jean. It was the only thing that could have caused this, and yet it didn’t make sense to him. Sure, Jean and Eren didn’t get along, but at most they had a friendly animosity. Eren wouldn’t begrudge him a friendship, would he?

Eren was acting like he was jealous, and that was just as difficult to swallow. Eren being interested in him, liking him enough to get possessive, didn’t make sense. It didn’t happen that way in the real world. Mikasa had said that Eren hadn’t shown interest in any others before; why would he be any different? Armin couldn’t think of anything that would set him apart, nothing that would make Eren notice him this way. It wasn’t like he could just ask.

Or maybe he could. Armin wasn’t used to being direct; he was too reserved, too cautious for it. Eren would be the kind of person who would appreciate it though.

There was a chance Eren _did_ like him. If that was the case, it wasn’t fair to force Eren to put in all the work.

“Eren,” Armin started.

“Armin,” he retorted.

He faltered. Eren was looking at him now, expectant. It was the first time Eren had looked at him properly all evening. He had to continue. He had to say something.

He drew a big breath. There was no point in hesitating, not now that he’d already gotten Eren’s attention. “I don’t know what this is,” he admitted, talking fast to force himself to keep going.

Eren took on a mulish look, his face closing. “I don’t either,” he said.

Armin rushed to fix his mistake. “If this is about Jean –“

“Horse-face has nothing to do with it,” Eren said. “You can do whatever you want with him, it’s not my problem.”

“It wasn’t – we were hanging out as friends,” Armin said. His words were fumbling in his haste and he struggled to keep hold of his vocabulary. “Even I can have _friends_ , Eren. He spent the whole time asking about Mikasa anyway.”

Eren paused. “Mikasa?”

“Your sister. Whom Jean likes a lot,” he confirmed. “I don’t want _him_.”

Armin knew that there was no room for misinterpretation in what he’d said. He knew that Eren knew exactly what he was implying. Eren’s expression would be funny if it weren’t so nerve-wracking. He was still, body tight like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He raised his hand and set it deliberately at the back of Armin’s neck. Armin couldn’t help the way his body instinctively pushed into the warmth as Eren ran his fingers through the wispy strands of hair there.

“I want you,” Armin said, voice low.

“Good,” Eren said.

The kiss, when it happened was not unexpected. Armin had seen Eren leaning in. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t as if he’d never kissed anyone else before.

It’s just that he was unprepared for how much he wanted it. Kissing a person he wanted, a person he’d wanted so intensely for so long – it was different. It was more pervasive.

He kept his eyes open, because he knew he’d sink in too deep otherwise. It was like a breath of fresh air. To finally, _finally_ know for sure how Eren felt about him was liberating. There was no more second-guessing himself.

Eren kissed just like he did everything else – with his entirety. The hand on the back of his neck bunched into his hair possessively, cradling his head and drawing him forward. Eren was always abnormally warm, but pressed close like this, his heat was almost unbearable. Armin pressed himself closer greedily.

Eren sucked on his lip to coax Armin’s mouth open and this was _so much better_. He’d never been so into a kiss before, but he’d never been so into a person before either. He couldn’t decide what to do with his hands; he wanted to give in to the urge to tug on Eren’s messy hair, to clutch at his back, to touch the chest that he’d seen so many times but never felt. There was too much and it made his head spin and it felt like Eren was sucking the rational thought right out of him.

He opened his eyes when Eren drew back. He hadn’t noticed closing them.

“Relax,” Eren said, teasing.

“Right,” Armin agreed, knowing that he could do no such thing. He was still hazy-eyed and dazed and not entirely sure why the kissing had stopped.

Eren looked away sheepishly like he’d caught the tail-end of that thought. “I want to do this right,” Eren said. “I don’t want to rush.”

Armin wanted to tell him that rushing was very much alright with him – his seventeen-year-old body practically demanded it. He forced himself to calm down and appreciate the sentiment there. Eren had to be serious about him if he was saying something like that.

Rushing would be easy, and it wasn’t as if they had all the time in the world. Already, the end of the semester loomed ahead of him.

Armin wiped the back of his mouth and pushed his hair back and out of his face. He smiled. “Okay,” he said, and that was really all there was to it.

**Author's Note:**

> i know literally nothing about England, Germany, their schooling, or how exchange student stuff works. sorry for inaccuracies. 
> 
> written for a prompt over on my [ tumblr](homicidalwhispers.tumblr.com). this one kind of got away from me. 
> 
> feel free to send more. i adore getting them.


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